


counterpoint

by avalonjoan



Series: just two men driving ten hours to see each other because they're in love [2]
Category: Dreamer Trilogy - Maggie Stiefvater, Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Background Joseph Kavinsky, Call Down the Hawk Spoilers, Caretaking, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, I should just have that be a boilerplate tag for all my fics, M/M, Mild Spoilers, Ronan Lynch Loves Adam Parrish, Sick Adam Parrish, Sick Character, Sick Ronan Lynch, Sickfic, Sneezing, just put it there automatically, ronan's love language is acts of service, they talk about him but that's it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:28:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28030914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avalonjoan/pseuds/avalonjoan
Summary: Ronan held up the thermometer. “Humor me.”Adam sighed and let Ronan not only put the thermometer in his mouth, but hold it in place for the ten seconds or so it took to read. All the while, he looked at his boyfriend, and while it took a moment to place, he finally figured out Ronan’s expression: eyebrows drawn together, lips pursed, eyes focused on Adam’s mouth. In any other circumstance, it might have looked like anger, but—Worry. Ronan was worried. About him.---After returning from the weekend with a sick Ronan, Adam isn't doing too well himself; his friends decide it's time to call for reinforcement.
Relationships: Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Series: just two men driving ten hours to see each other because they're in love [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2053233
Comments: 6
Kudos: 108





	counterpoint

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote one incredibly self-indulgent fic where Ronan was sick and then read a bunch of whump blog prompts and was like 'well, might as well make Adam miserable too.'

“Adam?” Lor shook Adam’s shoulder. “Darlin’?”

“‘m awake,” Adam mumbled, forcing his eyes open. “What is it?”

“Your phone’s been ringing nonstop for the past five minutes.” Lor unplugged the phone and handed it to Adam, who was more than a little bewildered at having slept through all the buzzing. It must have shown on his face, because Lor went on, voice going from Southern belle to drag queen in an instant, “Girl, you were out _cold_.”

The screen showed three missed calls from Fletcher, plus a text: **someone came by looking for you**. He rubbed his eyes. “It’s not even nine.” 

“To be fair, you were asleep when I got in at ten last night.”

Oh. The more Adam woke up, the more he recalled about the night before. He’d fallen asleep somewhere he shouldn’t have—Fletcher’s floor? Eliot’s? Either way, someone had seen fit to walk him back to his room. He remembered insisting that he was just taking a nap, but apparently it hadn’t worked out that way. Lor went back to their desk, and Adam sat up. The change in position put the missing piece in place—he didn’t feel well, like, at all.

Running a hand through his hair, Adam took a quick inventory; he was still in his clothes from the day before, his head hurt, he had to tilt his head back to keep his nose from running—right. He’d picked up Ronan’s awful cold that weekend. He’d already felt the telltale itch in the back of his throat by the time he left a convalescing Ronan at the Barns, and the cold air in his face for the ten-hour ride back hadn’t exactly helped. But he’d sat for his exams and gotten some good work done, all the while doing his best to hydrate and rest and eat well and do all the other things you’re supposed to do to stay well. He’d even gone to a self-care workshop at the counseling center and actually considered setting up a visit with one of the therapists in January. 

Too little, too late. 

Sniffling, he lay back on the bed and rubbed the aching spot between his eyebrows. He texted Fletcher back, not particularly interested in a phone call when he was half-asleep, and waited for a message back with the identity of his mystery caller. It was probably Chelsea from music theory—she’d emailed him a few times when he was visiting Ronan and Adam had been...not great at getting back to her. 

Moments later, there was a knock. Adam took a moment to steady himself—okay, maybe he hadn’t been doing so well on the hydration front—and opened the door. Not surprisingly, Fletcher was there, but very surprisingly, so was Ronan. He had on the expression he usually wore around Adam’s school friends—a little surly, a little bored—but there was the slightest turn of a smile on his lips. 

“Miss me?”

Adam’s heart raced as he frantically tried to recall what day it was. He had gotten back to campus on Monday, taken exams on Tuesday and Wednesday, and then worked on the minuet all of yesterday. Ronan had planned to be there for the performance of his composition final and that was it. “You’re not supposed to be here until Tuesday.”

“Yeah, but you’re sick and shit at taking care of yourself.”

“How did you—”

Ronan held up his phone and wiggled it. “I do know how to use this, you know.” He pocketed the device and went on, “I knew you were gonna get it, so I did a little bit of recon.”

Letting out a sigh, Adam shook his head. “Did you…?” He looked to Fletcher, who put his hands up defensively.

Ronan shrugged. “I can’t identify my sources.”

“Seeing as my work here is done,” Fletcher gave a sweeping bow, “I shall take my leave of you. Adam, feel better.” Adam nodded, giving a small smile. “And Ronan, it’s been a pleasure, as always.”

With a two-fingered salute, Ronan waved at Fletcher as he returned down the hall, leaving Adam and Ronan in the doorway. Adam reached out and linked a finger with his boyfriend. “How did you even get his number?”

“In spite of everyone thinking I’m scary, your friends actually wanted to make sure they could reach me in an emergency.” Adam was about to point out that this was far from an emergency, but then Ronan leaned in and kissed his forehead, lips still cold from being outside. Okay, it may not have been an emergency, but it was still nice. “Go pack your things—I got us a room at the Charles.”

There it was. Adam pulled back and crossed his arms over his chest. “You can’t just show up and—”

“But you can?”

“That was different, I have work I need to be doing”

“I’m not trying to stop you.”

Adam was about to protest again when he heard Lor call out from behind him.

“Adam, darling.” Just from the way that Lor stretched out the last word, Adam knew that they were going to say something absolutely outrageous, and that there was nothing he could do to stop it. He covered his face with one hand, unwilling to look at Ronan until it was over. “If you don’t want to go and shack up with your hot boyfriend and eat nothing but room service for the next five days, I will gladly go in your stead.”

When Adam brought his hand down, Ronan looked entirely too smug about the whole thing, and Adam knew that he was going to hear that comment quoted back to him for days to come. 

“I don’t know how said hot boyfriend would feel about that trade,” Ronan called, the smirk audible in his voice, all the while holding eye contact with Adam, who was somehow managing to crave death even more than when Lor woke him. Reaching out and touching Adam’s cheek, Ronan tilted his head toward Adam’s side of the room. “Go pack,” he said, his voice so, so gentle, “You look exhausted.”

“Yeah, ‘cause somebody woke me up,” Adam grumbled, nevertheless taking Ronan’s hand and pulling him the rest of the way into the room. 

It didn’t take long to pack; he’d have time after the final to get all of his things together for break, so he really just needed a variety of sick-day clothes and his schoolwork. He threw everything into a duffel bag and was about to hoist the strap over his shoulder when Ronan snatched it from him. Adam was too tired to argue. He put on his boots and outerwear, said goodbye to Lor, and followed Ronan out.

It wasn’t far to the hotel, nor was it particularly cold out, but by the time they arrived in the lobby, Adam was a shivery and sniffling mess. In the elevator, he huddled against Ronan, letting his eyes drift closed when he felt the other put an arm around him and tug him close. “Have you eaten yet?”

Adam shook his head. “Again,” he said, pulling his scarf away from his mouth with one hand, “Just woke up.”

“Right.” The elevator dinged and Adam opened his eyes, letting Ronan lead him down the hall. “I’ll put you to bed and then run out and get something.”

There was something about Ronan speaking the phrase ‘put to bed’ that made Adam’s chest ache. He pictured Ronan, young, before everything. He imagined Niall carrying him up the stairs after falling asleep on the couch, Aurora tucking him in after being sent home ill from school, even Declan trying to soothe him after an ordinary nightmare. He thought of the trailer— 

“Sounds good.” It sounded even better once Ronan opened the door to the room—well, suite. Adam stared at the space, larger than anywhere he’d lived, and knew than an earlier version of him would have been furiously resistant. But the current Adam—he saw the bed and the dining area and the quilt that Ronan had brought from home, and all he felt was gratitude. And relief—he flopped face-first onto the bed, a thousand times softer than the one in his room, letting out a moan as he sank into the covers. “You’re amazing,” he said, voice muffled against the comforter.

The mattress dipped beside him, and Ronan tugged Adam’s hat off and ruffled his hair. “Glad you like it. Now get in bed—I’ve got something for you before I head out.” Adam did as he was told, leaving his boots by the door, hanging up his coat, and then changing from his day-old street clothes into his pajamas. Meanwhile, Ronan went around and pulled the curtains, slowly enveloping them in darkness. Before he did the last one, he turned to Adam. “Pick up that box on the nightstand.” Adam did, sitting on the edge of the bed, and the last thing he saw before the room plunged into black was Ronan’s smile. “Now open it.”

As soon as Adam lifted the lid of the small wooden box, a stream of small glowing spots flew out and hovered by the ceiling. They looked like fireflies or miniscule comets or the sparks at the end of a firework. They kept the room light, but not bright; warm, like lying on the grass at sundown. He gazed at them for a moment, unable to follow any one in particular for more than a few seconds before it blended in with the others. 

“You’re always gonna amaze me with your beautiful little lights,” Adam murmured, standing to reach up and run his fingers through the cloud.

“Good, ‘cause it’s my best party trick.” Ronan went over to Adam and took the box from his hands, setting it back on the table. “When should I wake you up?”

Adam glanced at his watch. He had writing and research and composing to do, but dear god, he was tired. “Eleven?”

“Eleven.” Ronan kissed him, which was probably the only good thing about Adam having caught his cold; spending the previous weekend at the Barns without kissing Ronan once had been quite the challenge (and had clearly been for nothing). He draped the quilt that he’d brought over Adam and then, in true Ronan form, left without another word. Adam curled up under the covers, held one of the pillows to his chest like another body, and fell asleep under the soft glow of Ronan’s dream.

* * *

Adam didn’t make it to eleven, his brain waking him in a panic about his unfinished everything. He shot up, gasping, looking around, only able to orient himself when he saw Ronan striding toward him. “Breathe, Parrish,” Ronan said, putting a hand on his chest. It took a few tries, but Adam finally took in a slow, deep breath and let it out, the exhale turning into a cough at the end. “You didn’t sleep through anything, or whatever the hell it is you’re worried about.” 

Slowly, Adam nodded and leaned against Ronan. “What time is it?”

“10:45.” Ronan moved his hand off of Adam’s chest and started to rub his back. “You gonna go back to sleep?”

Adam groaned and shook his head. “Nah—I guess I’m up for good, now.” He pushed back the covers and stood, stretching his arms upward before meeting Ronan in the dining area. Half of the table had been set up for work, with Adam’s laptop open beside a drawing pad, and the other half was waiting with coffee and a brown paper bag. Adam sat down and opened the bag. “Christ, did you get one of everything?”

“I thought about it.” Ronan took a sip of his coffee. “The thing on top is an apple cake—”

“Oh, you mean the thing with the bite missing?” Adam said, holding it up.

Ronan grinned. “Maybe.” 

Kicking Ronan lightly under the table, Adam took a bite and nodded. “Okay, this is amazing.”

“Told you.” Ronan reached into the bag and took out some triangle thing that must have been a scone, breaking it and putting half in front of Adam. They ate mostly in silence as Adam continued to wake up, hoping that the coffee would be enough to fuel a productive day. By the time he’d finished breakfast, Ronan was clearly getting antsy, fidgeting with his leather bands and bouncing his leg.

“Dude, you’re gonna knock something over,” Adam said, reaching out and taking hold of his wrist. “What’s up?”

Ronan shook his head, but stilled himself nevertheless. “Nothing.”

After a long look at Ronan, Adam let go and pushed his chair back. “Okay. I’m gonna start working.”

He switched seats and started back on his writing seminar paper, clicking between windows of Butler and Halberstam and Fausto-Sterling, while steadily making his way through a box of tissues that Ronan had tossed at him with the admonishment to _stop sniffling and blow your fucking nose, Parrish_. Ronan sat beside him, using a rainbow of immaculate crayons to draw...something. Every time Adam looked over, there was something different on the page, something that he would almost recognize but couldn’t quite place. Even after they’d been working for the better part of two hours, the crayons still looked perfect, their tips not worn down even slightly. He thought of his first time at the Barns and finding all the impossibilities there. He thought of the impossibility of Ronan, of himself, of them finding each other. Being sick didn’t usually make him nostalgic, but then again, he never really had much to be nostalgic about.

“Hey, Parrish.” Ronan was waving his hand in front of Adam. “Earth to boyfriend.”

Adam blinked a few times. “What?”

“You zoned out there for a minute.” Ronan frowned, then leaned away from Adam and started rifling through his backpack. “Hang on, I’m gonna check your temperature.”

“I’m just tired.” Adam rubbed his eyes, resting his elbows on the table. “I’m not gonna have a fever because you didn’t have one and it’s the same fucking virus.”

Ronan dragged his chair closer and held up the thermometer. “Humor me.” 

Adam sighed and let Ronan not only put the thermometer in his mouth, but hold it in place for the ten seconds or so it took to read. All the while, he looked at his boyfriend, and while it took a moment to place, he finally figured out Ronan’s expression: eyebrows drawn together, lips pursed, eyes focused on Adam’s mouth. In any other circumstance, it might have looked like anger, but—

Worry. Ronan was worried. About him.

It felt odd, even uncomfortable, to have Ronan worrying over him for something so minor as this, hovering over him like he would break. This was nothing compared to what they’d been through. Then again, their lives were calmer now, different, almost normal (if you ignored the dreaming and psychic bits), so perhaps they’d reached the point where an unexpected fever would be the biggest call for concern.

The thermometer beeped, and Ronan looked at it, let out a breath, and set it on the table. “All good.” He ran his fingers through Adam’s hair, then leaned in and kissed his forehead.

Adam needed to work, and he knew that Ronan knew that, but still, he stood up and took Ronan’s hand, tilting his head toward the bed. “I think it’s time for a break.”

Even a year out, he was still getting used to this Ronan—his Ronan. More and more, he was the boy who pressed the baby mouse to his cheek, who watched Adam even when he pretended not to, who slept on his floor so he wouldn’t be alone. Adam lay on the bed and beckoned for Ronan to come beside him; he did, putting his head on Adam’s chest. 

“You must be tired,” Adam said, smoothing his hand over Ronan’s scalp, “You had to leave at what, eleven last night?”

“Nine,” Ronan corrected. “I pulled over for a nap somewhere in Jersey.”

Fletcher must have called right after Eliot walked him back to his room. Ronan must have already been packed for the trip. What had Adam done to deserve these people? He kissed Ronan’s head. “Still.”

They didn’t quite sleep, at least, Adam didn’t think they did, but at some point Ronan’s stomach audibly growled, and they both laughed. “Room service time?” Ronan suggested, propping himself up on one arm.

“Lor wouldn’t forgive me if I said no.” Adam rolled over and took the hotel services book from the bedside table drawer. He flipped it open, scanned over the index page, and then groaned, holding the book out to Ronan. “I just can’t seem to get away.”

Ronan looked confused, then realization dawned on his face. “It’s a sign,” he said, sitting up. “Not sure of what, though.”

“Why would you even name a place that?” Adam sat up, leaning against the headboard and taking the book back from Ronan. “‘Henrietta’s Table’? They couldn’t think of a better name for their hotel restaurant?”

“You do realize that it’s probably named after someone, right?”

“Whatever—it’s homophobic because I’m bi and I don’t like it.”

Ronan bumped his shoulder against Adam’s. “I’m gonna start using that.”

“You should use it on Declan.” Adam grinned as Ronan laughed uproariously.

“Oh my God, he’ll hate it so much,” Ronan replied once his post-laugh coughing fit subsided. “Alright. Food.” Once they’d made their selections and called down the order, he turned to Adam. “Should I let you get back to work?”

Adam shrugged. “Technically rewatching Hedwig would count as research, and my brain hurts from writing all morning.”

Getting up, Ronan waved off Adam’s attempt to help as he hooked Adam’s laptop up to the TV. He brought over a notebook and pen, then disappeared into the kitchenette for a few minutes before returning with two mugs of tea. They started the movie, pausing only briefly for lunch (which was infinitely better than anything Adam had ever eaten in the real Henrietta). Adam texted a picture to Lor, who replied with a string of heart emojis. Ronan insisted that he send a follow-up text to say that ‘the hot boyfriend says hi,’ which he did, begrudgingly.

All things considered, Adam had been feeling decently well once he’d had time to wake up and warm up, but he knew that things always went downhill sometime in the afternoon. The movie was about halfway done when Adam started only partially paying attention, jotting fewer and fewer notes down as it went on. He was cozy with Ronan’s arm around him when he sneezed, silently stifling the first one against his wrist and then next two into his elbow, letting out a congested groan after.

“Stop doing that.” Ronan’s voice was stern, and Adam pulled away to look at him.

“Sneezing?”

Ronan rolled his eyes. “No, dumbass. Holding them in like that. You’re gonna get a sinus infection.”

Trying to breathe in through his nose, which did absolutely nothing besides make Adam cough after, he shrugged. “Bold of you to assume I don’t already have one.”

Shifting positions so that he was facing him head on, Ronan cupped Adam’s face in one hand and ran his thumb over his cheek, eyebrows knit in obvious concern. “Is your face hurting you?” Adam was halfway through a nod when Ronan continued, now grinning wickedly, “Because it’s killing me.”

“How long have you been waiting to say that?” Adam smiled in spite of himself; it was good to see Ronan playful after being visibly worried all morning.

“The opportunity presented itself—I had to take it.” Ronan leaned in and kissed Adam. “But seriously.”

Adam nodded. “Yeah—just like—” he gestured to his whole cheek-eye-forehead area “—all in here.”

“Hang on.” Ronan hopped up, paused the movie, and then sat back beside Adam. He patted his lap, and Adam lowered his eyebrows in question. “Come on.” Scooting down on the bed, Adam lay on his back, head on Ronan’s thighs, and looked up at him. “Close your eyes.”

Adam did as he was told, jumping only slightly when he felt Ronan rest his thumbs just below his cheekbones. His fingers were warm as he gently massaged the area. Adam felt instantly comforted, relaxed. “That feels nice. Weird. But nice.”

“I used to get really bad sinus infections as a kid,” Ronan explained, “My mom would do this when it hurt too much for me to sleep.” He was quiet for a moment as he continued to press his fingertips against Adam’s face. “She used to tell me stories, too. If you want, I could…” he trailed off.

Adam opened his eyes. He reached up and took one of Ronan’s hands and brought it to his lips, then placed it back on his cheek. “I’d like that.”

So Ronan did. He told a few, moving between them when one story reminded him of another, or when one needed backstory that Adam didn’t know. He told stories like he’d been holding them back before, like a sigh. The only times he paused were the moments when he would lift his hands from Adam’s face to allow him to turn away to sneeze, after which he’d murmur a soft ‘bless you’ before going on. Adam would have fallen asleep at the gentleness of it, but every second with Ronan like this was too precious to miss. The story surrounded him and he sank into a comfortable haze under Ronan’s touch.

* * *

Adam didn’t know how long they stayed like that, Ronan’s hands warm on his skin, only that the winter sun was almost set by the time Ronan’s voice turned rough and his words were punctuated with throat-clearing and the occasional cough. Pushing himself into a sitting position, Adam rested his palm on the side of Ronan’s neck, as if touching there could soothe it. “Shh,” he said softly. “Finish that one later.” 

Ronan nodded and took Adam’s hand into his own, pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah.” Adam rubbed the heel of his hand against each cheekbone, then quickly tugged the collar of his shirt up to cover two sneezes. Fuck, he felt so much better. “Thank you.”

“I’ll rub your gross, sick face anytime you want.” There was a smirk on Ronan’s lips as he pressed his forehead to Adam’s.

Adam smiled, but shook his head. “Not just that. Thanks for—” he took a deep breath. What was he even trying to say? Thanks for reminding him that he was allowed to take up space? Or that he didn’t need to fuck up his sinuses trying to make himself invisible? It was all too much for now, too much when his head was fuzzy and his eyes were tired and god, maybe therapy would be a good idea after all. “Thanks for coming up early. And for spying on me through my friends.”

“They’re good for you,” Ronan said as he started to comb his fingers through Adam’s hair, “and they know that you need to be forced to take a break when you need it.”

“I’m working on that.” It came out a little more ashamed and a little less indignant that Adam would have liked.

Ronan sat back, took Adam’s hand, and squeezed it gently. “I know. Speaking of which, I should let you get back to work.”

“Mmm.” Looking from Ronan to the table to the TV, Adam scrunched his mouth to the side in thought. “Maybe just a little longer here.” Ronan gestured for Adam to lie back down, but Adam shook his head. “Your turn. You still sound awful sick, to be honest.”

“I don’t think you’re in any place to talk.”

“Hey, I’m actually feeling a lot—” Adam’s breath hitched. “—Hang on, I have to—” He turned away to sneeze twice more, pretending not to notice Ronan’s raised eyebrow after. “A lot better.”

“Clearly.” Obligingly, Ronan lay down and Adam started grazing his fingertips over the stubble on his scalp. “I know it’s only been a few days, but I missed this.”

Adam smiled. “Me too.”

“I’m sorry I got you sick.” 

“It was bound to happen.” Continuing to smooth his hand over Ronan’s head, Adam added, “Timing wasn’t great, but that was my own fault.”

Ronan lifted his head, but Adam gently urged him back down. “I’ll try to send clearer psychic vibes next time I’m sick so you don’t just show up during the worst of it.”

“Or you could, I don’t know, actually tell me when you’re not feeling well.”

“I could say the same for you.”

“Fair enough.” Adam was quiet for a moment. “You doing any better?”

Ronan shrugged. “Not really. Opal’s been trying to take care of me, so that’s been...an experience.”

“Aw, you poor thing,” Adam cooed, a mocking lilt in his voice, all the while moving his hand enough to feel Ronan’s forehead, just to be sure, “Having your kid around to look after you.”

Sighing, Ronan sounded exhausted as he explained, “After you told her that medicine was something people take to feel better, she started giving me things that would make _her_ feel better. I woke up two days ago covered in leaves.” Adam burst into laughter as Ronan went on, “And not like, the crunchy kind. We’re talking wet, decomposing leaves.”

Once he caught his breath, Adam managed to say, “Okay, I take back what I said. And Chainsaw?”

“Ate her body weight in crackers and slept for a day and a half.”

Adam choked on another laugh, taking his hand off Ronan’s head to cover his coughing. “I’m gone for three days and the whole place goes to hell.”

Without lifting his head from Adam’s lap, Ronan reached up and blindly jabbed his finger in the general area of his ribs, eliciting even more laughter. “Fuck off,” he muttered, but was soon laughing himself, which quickly turned into coughing that, to Adam, sounded awfully painful.

Rubbing a hand over Ronan’s back until it subsided, Adam hesitated before asking, “Not to like, tell you how to do your job, but why can’t you dream up something to make us feel less like death?”

This time, Ronan did push himself to kneel beside Adam. “First of all,” he started ticking each point off on his fingers, “That is one hundred percent telling me how to do my job. Second of all, it’s not that easy.” Adam fixed him with a look that he hoped said ‘You’ve framed someone for murder, made dozens of cars, and created two sentient beings, but okay’. “Thirdly, I did try, and while it did jack shit for this fucking cold, I still think you’re gonna like it.”

“Oh?”

“Want to try?”

“Depends, am I gonna be able to get work done after? Because I really need to get back to my paper.”

“I think so.” After Adam nodded, Ronan went to the table and put his backpack on one of the chairs, pulling out a bottle of actual cold medication and setting it on the table, followed by a Ziploc bag of marble-sized pills.

“You look like a fucking drug dealer with that.”

“I learned from the best.” 

Ronan grinned for a split second before his expression changed entirely, like his brain took a moment to catch up to his mouth. His smile vanished. Eyes wide, lips slightly parted, he held Adam’s gaze for a flash before looking away, fumbling with the zipper of his bag for longer than necessary.

“Hey.” Adam kept his voice soft, to the point that he wasn’t sure that Ronan heard him until the other looked up. “Come here.” Getting back onto the bed, Ronan dropped the bottle and the bag next to Adam and curled up against him. Adam pulled him close and rested his lips on Ronan’s scalp as he asked, voice barely a whisper, “Do you miss him?”

Ronan let out a whooshing breath and rubbed a hand over his forehead. “Sometimes? I don’t know. I try not to think about it.” His other hand was a fist on Adam’s chest. “Like, he was such a fucking bastard but…”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t spend a weekend doing drugs and taking fucked-up shit from your dreams with someone and not miss them sometimes, you know?”

“Of course.”

“And obviously he had like, so much shit going on, and it’s not like I could have done anything, but I wonder how things would have turned out with him.”

Trailing his fingertips over Ronan’s head, Adam made a small sound of question. He wasn’t worried or insecure or any of that, just—curious. “You mean if you’d ended up—”

Ronan sat up suddenly, looking at Adam very, very intently. “No, no—not like that. God, he’s like, the antithesis of boyfriend material. He’s like, hate-fuck material. Just—I wonder who he would have been. But maybe someone like him—” Ronan rested his head back on Adam’s shoulder and was quiet for a moment. “You can’t burn that bright for long.”

It had been a long time since they’d talked about Kavinsky. In the beginning, Ronan had been angry, so overwhelmingly, understandably angry, but Adam hadn’t known how to see past that yet. By the time he did, everything else had been moving so quickly that the K and his dragon seemed like an eternity ago. This year, on the Fourth, after Ronan had way too much to drink, he mumbled something barely intelligible when Adam was undressing him and putting him to bed. Today, it was like a floodgate had burst. Sickness did weird things to both of them, Adam supposed.

“But now that I’m thinking about it—and I say this as someone who loves you more than anything—” Ronan started, paused, then laced fingers with Adam and went on, “I do wish that we’d fucked. Like, you _know_ he’s absolutely wild in the sack.”

“Oh, for sure.” Adam smiled as he kissed Ronan’s head. 

Ronan sat up and reached for the medicine bottle. “Anyway.” Pouring a capful of cough syrup, he held it up in a mock toast. “K, wherever the fuck you are, I hope you’re getting that good dick.” 

Adam laughed while Ronan threw back the shot and set the cap and bottle on the bedside table. “Eloquent.”

“I think it’s fitting. And now for something completely different.” Opening the bag of pills, that, upon closer inspection, looked like they contained different colors of smoke, Ronan selected one and held it up to Adam. “Open up.”

“Is it safe?” Adam eyed the marble with a little suspicion—the colors kept changing, and it hurt his eyes to look for more than a few seconds this close. 

“You know the answer to that.” Adam opened his mouth and allowed Ronan to place it on his tongue. “Swirl it around your mouth,” he instructed, “It works better that way.”

Adam did as he was told, feeling nothing until all of a sudden, he felt everything. If he’d been standing, he would have had to sit; more accurately, he would have simply dropped where he stood. The pill tasted—it was—

November air. Ronan’s fingers on his, gently taking a toy car from his hands. A sigh. Teeth nipping at his lips. Hands pressed to his ribs. The evening sunlight. Pulling away to breathe. Ronan’s hands fisted in his hair. A palm on his cheek. Rainstorm. Street race. A hand lifting him up from the pavement. 

He gasped, leaning forward and grabbing Ronan’s upper arm. “Holy shit.” He blinked a few times, then exhaled slowly and looked into Ronan’s eyes. “Fuck me, that was—”

Ronan’s mouth curled into a smile. “That’s actually a different pill, but I’m gonna wait until you’re done with finals to give it to you.”

Adam leaned forward and rested his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “You are—” he stopped, completely unable to put words to what Ronan was, but finally settling on, “You are a total fucking sap.”

“Don’t tell your friends or I’ll lose all my street cred with them.”

“Tell them what—that you dreamed up a drug that tastes like our first kiss?” Adam shook his head. “How many of those did you make?”

Ronan toyed with the bag, rolling the pills over his fingers. “Just these. I was gonna save them for when you go back in the spring, but I wanted to be with you for the first one.”

“And the other batch?” Adam walked his fingers up Ronan’s thigh toward his hips, trying his best for a coy smile. Ronan snatched his hand and kissed it.

“I was thinking one of our Zoom dates,” he murmured against Adam’s knuckles, and Adam shivered. “But I don’t know if I can wait that long, so maybe just once we’re back home and feeling better.”

Shifting positions, Adam moved closer so that he could kiss Ronan properly, one hand on the base of his skull, thumb resting in the sensitive spot behind his ear. Ronan let out a quiet, keening whimper and kissed Adam with a little more force, biting down not-too-gently on his lip. When he let go, Adam kissed him on the cheek and pulled away. “I should really get back to work,” he whispered.

“Fucking tease.” 

“You like it.” Adam scooted around Ronan and retrieved his computer from where it was connected to the TV. “I’m gonna work at the table—you gonna come do your…” He gestured to the dining area.

Ronan flopped onto the bed. “I think I might nap until dinner. Last night’s starting to catch up with me.”

Putting his laptop on the table, Adam went to sit on the mattress beside Ronan and draped the quilt over him. His eyes were already closed, mouth slightly open so he could breathe around the lingering congestion. “Sounds good,” Adam said, running the backs of his fingers down Ronan’s cheek. “Can I ask, though—what are you drawing?”

“Just working on different techniques for making things. It’s easy for things that exist already, but I’m still figuring out how to really make things up.”

“Well, see if you can make a minuet for string quartet following the rules for fourth species counterpoint. It’ll free up a lot of my time.”

Ronan opened his eyes, seemingly for the sole purpose of rolling them at Adam. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Leaning over, Adam kissed him, pulling away sooner than he would have liked to bury a sneeze into his elbow, then another. He sniffled and rubbed at his nose, letting out a frustrated grunt. “I’ll try to keep the sneezing to a minimum. Sleep well.”

With a little nod, Ronan closed his eyes again, a smile still on his lips. As he started toward the table, Adam heard Ronan say, voice soft, as if he were falling asleep already, “Love you.”

Adam smiled and looked back at him. His Ronan, who drove through the night, who dreamt his best memory into an edible time capsule, who came to look after Adam even though he was still sick himself. His Ronan, romantic and worried and an absolutely unpredictable impossibility of a man, resting under the lights he’d made for Adam. This was his life—their life. “Love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) I chose the Charles hotel as the setting for this BEFORE I knew that the restaurant was called Henrietta's Table. 
> 
> 2) Adam is writing a paper on Hedwig and the Angry Inch that I wrote for my freshman year writing seminar! I, unfortunately, did not write it in a fancy hotel room with my gay Catholic farmer boyfriend. I wrote it in a weird basement at the student center because forcibly cutting myself off from wifi was the only way I would focus.
> 
> 3) if you are ever in Boston/Cambridge, PLEASE go to Flour and get their apple snacking cake. it's amazing.


End file.
